His Khio'ri
by BeautifulRedRose
Summary: Her kiss. His downfall. Her light. His darkness. Spock/OC
1. One Night

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: _IMPORTANT_ **Hey guys! This is my first Star Trek fanfic so this is all new to me. I completely fell in love with the Star Trek movies (2009-2013) and I absolutely LOVE Spock and I wanted to go ahead and make my own romance story with a OC. So for details here, Nyota will have a somewhat romance with Spock in my story, there will be small indications of them being together but it won't be a huge deal since Spock will fall for my OC.

Anyways, this takes place after Star Trek Into Darkness, kinda in between the year that takes rebuilding the Enterprise and Jim getting back on his feet for the 5 year journey they are going to take and from there onwards. Also, this story will be simply DRABBLES, there will be a plot to follow. This is mostly like a Prologue, but yeah. I LOVE writing drabbles and I really enjoy them and thus to get a hang of the whole Star Trek universe, I'll go ahead and do what I feel I do best and that's drabbles. I hope you enjoy this story as much I enjoy writing. Please let me know what you think and maybe things I should work on. Thanks again and please review! Enjoy!

REVISED!

**ONE**

* * *

"But all I ever wanted  
Was for you to look at me  
As if you were the night sky  
And I was your only star."  
- C.P

* * *

_#One Night_

The storm came from nowhere. One minute, the city sat under a typical pitter-pat rain, and in the next, a deluge took its place. Pedestrains, who had just minutes before, walked sedately down the streets, now fought with inverted umbrellas and ran for cover in nearby shops and doorways. Wind blew, lightning made the sky glow, and the rain fell with needle-like precision.

"Commander Spock!"

Dahlia was surprised to see him standing on the sidewalk, completely calm as the rain fell over his unsheltered figure. He turned his contemplations away from the brick pattern building, blinking wearily at her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, hugging her rain coat more securely around her thin form. "I thought you had somewhere important to go?"

"I did," he simply answered.

"Spock," she said cautiously, eyeing the swaying of his body. "Are you okay?"

Dahlia had become concerned as she noticed how his body slightly swayed from side to side while his gaze seemed unfocused. The oddity of seeing her normally staid, reserved mentor like this only made her more concerned as she wondered what on earth could have made him this way.

"Come on, I think it's time for you to call it a quits for tonight, mister. I can't let Jim see you like this. Oh, the joy that bastard would have on seeing you in this state," Dahlia said, as she steared Spock to follow her down the sidewalk and back to his quarters. He did not even try to question the meaning behind her statement.

After arriving, they stumbled inside and she helped him sit on a chair by the table. "Lights, twenty percent. Heat, normal." She's slightly surprised at the strength and authority his voice contained in his state. It was deep and controlled.

Growing warm from the heat inside that was such a contrast to the weather outside, she unbuttoned her coat and noticed that he was doing the same.

"Here, let me go get a cup of water," she said and quickly made her way toward his neatly clean kitchen.

As she walked back toward him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen, she gazed toward him sitting pensively at the table. He still was soaked to the skin and bedraggled from the downpour outside. But to her, he was no less beautiful for it. Physically, yes, he was beautiful. But it went deeper than the hue of his bones, the fairness of his skin, or the curve of skin over muscle.

It always had for her.

But she had realized it too late. He had at one point, accidentally on her part, made it clear of his affections for her. But at the time, she had not been able to reciprocate his need for her. It had taken her awhile to realize her immense mistake, her lack of understanding. She did love him. She had tried to convince him of it, but he was withdrawn, unable to accept her sudden change.

She was too late.

As if knowing her eyes were on him, he turned toward her and stared at her warily. He was seeking her presence again, and that was what mattered.

She walked toward him and handed him the glass of water. He accepted it, his fingers moving away from hers, not seeking to touch her skin with his. Instead of drinking the water, he set it down on the table carefully.

When her eyes trailed over his features, she was startled to notice a slight cut just above his right brow. Without realizing it, she stepped in closer between his legs. "Holy shit, how did you cut yourself? Does it hurt?"

He said nothing, instead remained silent. He sat there patiently while she grabbed a napkin and dabbed it lightly over his wound. She knew she was overreacting for such a small cut, but he didn't complain. Not even that she was far too close.

Upon realizing that she was invading his personal space, she muttered, "I need to get going then." He'd closed his eyes as she finished up, and now he blinked them open slowly, but he nodded to show her he'd heard. Before she could turn to grab her coat, she felt his large hands at her sides, stilling her.

Startled, she looked down at him, but he was too busy wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning forward. He rested his brow between her breasts, his breath warm against her belly through the cotton of her shirt. She stood there frozen for a moment before she shook it off, moving her own arms around him. She threaded her fingers through his damp hair, combing through it gently.

She tried to treasure this moment as much as she could, or as long as he would let her. She knew it was a matter of time before he realized his behavior, his gestures and retreated back, ashamed at his actions and withdrawing himself in the dark corners of his mind, and become the emotionless, calculating, aloof Commander everyone knew.

They stayed like that for some time, neither saying a word. Finally he drew away and she tried not to show her disappointment. She held her breath, waiting to see if this would be a repeat of last time, where he'd effectively shut down. But he didn't give any indication of embarrassment. Perhaps that would come when he was feeling more lucid, or even further down the road, but for the time being, he simply whispered his gratitude.

When he stood up, he slightly wavered and she reached for him. Though it was in the back of her mind to resist, she helped him toward his bedroom. She helped him to lay down and in the process, she found half of her upper body resting beside him on the bed. She made no move to pull away.

She watched as his eyes closed and his breath even. The quiet settled around her. She felt the warmth he provided without even touching him.

She noticed how his hair had finally dried, and she smiled to herself, knowing that it would be its usual perfection in the morning. She reached out and haltingly, tentatively brushed the hair on his forehead. She was just drawing her hand back when something changed. She couldn't say how she could tell, but even in the darkness, she knew he'd opened his eyes.

_Oh shit_, she snatched her hand away, burying it under the covers. As if he wouldn't have felt the air moving by his face. But then something astounding happened. Something that she would later recall again and again, but still not believe. Spock, who made not a single sound, not even after she gasped lightly, began edging toward her.

She could only see his shadow moving in the darkness and at first she thought he was just shifting to get more comfortable. But then his body bumped into hers and his hands reached for her. Unsure of what she should do, she watched him carefully.

Lightning lit up the bedroom, momentarily bathing everything in white light, making his soft brown eyes almost black. She could hear tree branches groaning in the wind. She could hear the dull roar of heavy rain. And she could hear their quiet breathing.

He then began lightly tracing his fingertips up across her arm. When he reached her shoulder, he nudged the collar of her shirt out of the way so his fingers could dip into the hollow above her collarbone. It felt as if that lightning outside, which flashed with more and more urgency, had hit her. His hand slid up and around to cup the back of her neck, his thumb and forefinger stroking little shocks on her skin.

Her breath began to hitch just a little at his ministrations, but she was too shocked to try to even it out. The rustling of the sheets was nothing to the storm, but as he came even closer to her, she would swear that the rasp of his skin on the cotton was deafening.

As soon as he was pressed flush up against her, he did nothing more. She noticed his breath was as unsteady as hers. She could feel each inhalation, his hard stomach and chest pressing to hers more insistently as he pulled air in. Impasse. that was what it felt like to her. Despite their proximity, despite his exhaled breaths dancing across her lips, she felt that old familiar uncertainty lurking.

Was he silently offering her ...something ...or was he drawing up short because this was his limit? And if she asked these things aloud, would it break the spell that seemed to hang around the air between them?

She needn't have worried, because, with a shudder, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes slid closed, the mad lightning flashing through the thin cloak of her lids. As she flicked her tongue against his lips, asking him to open his mouth for her, she could feel the electricity from the storm dancing along her nerve endings.

As their mouths opened to each other, both of them gasping for air, her fingers wove into his soft hair. As he rolled onto his back, pulling her half on top of him, her own hair fell over them, tickling their cheeks as they continued to kiss desperately.

She felt him slide his hands under the back of her shirt, his palms and fingers smoothing up her soft skin until they were cupping her shoulder blades. She pulled back just enough for his wrists to catch the shirt's hem. He gathered her intent and let her back out of the garment as she did for his. They both hadn't even tossed each other's shirts to the ground by the bed before she was pushing herself back flushed against him, moaning as their skin met.

He sucked in a startled puff of air so much warm, soft flesh touching his, but he only tightened his arms around her. His mouth wandered from hers, down to her jaw, and further on to her neck. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the line and dips of her throat, every now and then pressing soft kisses to her skin as she all but hummed with her joy and arousal.

Though she wasn't sure what to do, he obviously did and she trusted him implicitly with every fiber of her being as she felt that, at this moment, this was all so very right and she didn't want to turn back.

Suddenly, though, he moved his head and everything tilted as he flipped them over so that she now lay beneath him. They watched each other as they fought to catch their breaths.

xx

Long afterwards, when the haze of pleasure faded, he hovered above her. She reached for him, to lay next to her.

At first he struggled, and she could see self-recrimination trying to creep its way into him. So she reared up slightly, kissing him again on the lips, before she lay back down, tugging him with her. He seemed to come to a decision and let her pull him to her, sliding his much larger body down, so that his forehead once again rested between her breast, his breath fitting across her stomach, cooling her heated skin.

"It will be wise for you to leave my quarters," he murmured, saying the first articulate words between the two of them in hours, before kissing her skin again. She hmmed in slight agreement before amending, "Not yet. You are not well."

"You do not need to trouble yourself in keeping me company. I find myself being more than capable of proceeding suitably," he insisted. She reached down and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. She could feel him trying to withdraw from her, his mind building up walls for her not to pass. In the distant she could feel the emotions he was trying to hide.

"I will stay," she said simply.

Thunder sounded, the wind roared, lightning flashed, and he did not argue.


	2. First Kiss

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** As I said before guys, this is just drabbles. My OC, Dahlia is very spontaneous and outgoing, a stark contrast to Spock which I really and excitedly want to explore. I feel like it would be fun to pair Spock with someone that is completely and utterly different. So yeah, hope you guys like her.

* * *

**TWO**

"Kiss me, and you will see how important I am."  
― Sylvia Plath

* * *

_#First Kiss_

"There you are you idiot, self-centered, _clever_ son of a bitch!"

A distinctly female voice bellowed, causing Spock to still, and tense for a moment. He saw Uhura and Chevok stop in their tracks a few feet away from them while Jim stood next to him, the corner of his lips tugging upward. Spock lifted his brow in a small display of distaste for whoever had lacked control in keeping their emotions at bay. Spock, slowly turning, was struck by the most unusual hue of turquoise eyes and the look of annoyance that painted the otherwise aesthetically pleasing female face.

"Oh, Dahlia, my sweet, sweet Dahlia. what have I done for such harsh words from you?" Jim asked, his hand drapped over his heart. Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"Cut the crap, Jim. You know what you did," Dahlia sneered.

Instead of lending his assistance at the prospect of difficulty, Spock elected to observe. He watched, enraptured, as the young woman tapered her brow and insulted Jim in different statements that had Spock contemplating in whether or not he should interrupt their discussion to question the meaning behind such words.

"I would be careful, Dahlia. I mean you didn't complain that one night," Jim said. Spock stiffened again upon understanding the provocative implications behind such a statement. What he could not understand was why such a statement caused him a feeling he wasn't accustom to.

"Jim!" Her exasperation floated around them. "You perv! You make everything sound so dirty!"

"Alright, I'll stop. Jeez, you haven't changed a bit, have you, Dahlia?" Jim asked playfully. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, you can't deny my offer, Dahlia. This is a really good opportunity for you. You're at the top of your classes and once the Enterprise is ready for our next mission, you would have already graduated. Wasn't this what you wanted?"

"Yeah, but I mean, I didn't want others to think ...you know ..." Dahlia said, waving her hand around as she trailed off.

"Dahlia, you deserve the position in our science station. If you feel that way, try to work harder and I don't know, do extra work. I'm sure Spock will help you with that since he will resume his teachings until the Enterprise is rebuilt. You should become his student aide. You'll help her, right, Spock?" Jim asked, turning toward his first Officer.

Spock studied the young woman as her eyes slowly found his. Her eyes slightly widen, perhaps realizing his presence among them. It perplexed him, sometimes, how humans easily dismissed or lacked the knowledge of the presence of another when their attention is solely on one object. His mouth was fixated into the prim, untailored line as was habitual.

He blinked, once. Twice. He could see her wavering under his calculating, deep eyes. He did not address her with paltry lexis, but simply nodded his head once. "If she is, as you indicated Captain, an admirable student, then it will be acceptable for her to pursue the position as my student aide."

A look of pure relief swept her features and she gave a soft round of laughter. She jumped slightly in her excitement, becoming intimately closer to him. "Thank you, sir."

He leaned slightly backward, his eyes trained on hers. "Gratitude is an unnecessary sentiment, regarding - " Before he could fully comprehend what her goal had been, her hand moved forward and clasped his tightly. He stood speechless before her.

For a moment, his focus fell elsewhere as he allowed her fingers to brush his, and relished in the very texture of her skin. In the distance he heard a few surprised inhales, but he remained immobile and briefly unresponsive as the emotions saturating the surface of her skin transferred unto him. Jarred and temporarily fazed as he sought with a militant restraint to suppress and comprehend the passionate insights coursing through the human's mind.

She retracted from the embrace of their palms and met his eyes with uncertainty. She frowned slightly, her eyes gazing toward Jim. "What? What did I do? Fuck, did I propose to him or something?"

"No, but you just made out with him," Jim answered.

Spock, fascinated, saw her expression change, her cheeks turning a slight red, her mouth slightly parting to inhale, to observe the dilating of her eyes, wide and disbelieving. Her shock was evident on her face and she turned to him. He felt his body still, unmoving. He was frozen, completely solidified and weighed down.

What he observed next wasn't what he had expected, but he should have, of course. She was an illogical female. It was only ...logical to see her lips morph into a flirtatious grin as she leaned toward him, ignoring the warning exclamations of his crew members.

"I was that good of a kisser, huh?"


	3. Smile

**Author's Note: **Hey guys so I decided to go ahead and make this story kinda in a drabble format, but also I changed it kinda where it would be a story too. So I'll have every drabble follow the next one and the next, kinda like chapters but instead they'll be short and you know, have some deep meaning and shit. ;) Trying to be funny there ...anyways, I wanted to inform you guys that Spock is the FIRST one to like her. She falls for him later on, you'll see. So I want to go ahead and thank the people who have reviewed, followed and favorited this story. Thanks!

**THREE**

* * *

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."  
- Oscar Wilde

* * *

#Smile

"Yeah, nope. That was bullshit. That was twice as hard, Jim!"

Dahlia Rose was a very illogical woman.

She was not the first nor the last Spock was sure to analyze as such, for it was tolerable of anyone not of the Vulcan race to reason with lapsed judgment. Humans, he had found, as individuals, were emotionally compromised. It was understandable that Spock, being Vulcan, often did not fathom the inconsistencies of human logic. He had studied the patterns of human behavior and dialects and was knowledgeable of their habits and customs; however, there were those who seemingly proceeded outside his standard apprehension. Although Kirk, as an absurd being, was in a matter of sense irrational, Spock could at least rely on the fact that his actions were at times comprehensible.

The same could not be said of Cadet Rose. Unlike Kirk, her unconventionality was adventitious and aimless. It was not in Spock's nature to be rendered astounded, but the unconformities Rose exhibited were, to say the least, fascinating. Fascinating, and perplexing. Her demonstration of emotion did not serve to rebel against what was logical, but rather to stimulate a physical response Spock did not comprehend.

Her attributes and selective wording deflected logic and was replaced by enigmatic emotions. It was a concept that was embedded into Spock's half-human structure but for the Vulcan in him, it was foreign. Displaying emotion was irrelevant. Still, it had only taken the indemnity of her hand, as she accidentally initiated a Vulcan kiss, to kindle an emotional response from within him that he wished he could abandon.

"Jim! I swear, if you don't help me with this formula, I'll tell Carol that you looked at my boobs!"

"That happened once! Once! And I told you it was an accident! You had a bug on you!"

Instead of interrupting their discussion to ameliorate their statements, he decided to inspect their interaction. It fascinated him, to observe the changes in Cadet Rose's features. How from one moment, she insinuated a frown, a slight crease in between her brows before her appearance alternated into one he assumed was amusement. It startled and dismayed him at how his eyes found her pleasant smile enticing.

"Commander Spock, I have a nice smile, right?" She had asked him, leaning toward him to meet his gaze steadily. "Jim said I have an ugly smile and I should fix it."

Spock froze a moment, blinked. For a mere second, he found himself contemplating in whether she had ascertained his thoughts, but briskly missed the notion. He then pondered on her question. This was a most unusual personal inquiry. He thought about it, turning over her words in his head in attempt to understand. It seemed a lifetime of knowledge served him no purpose under the circumstances. The way he detected it, there was no logistic answer; therefore, it was impossible to formulate a reply. This must have been one of those human jokes. She was smiling, which encouraged him in his observation.

"Your smile requires no modification. It is acceptable in appearance," he merely stated neutrally.

"Oh, sir, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. It's a shame more men aren't like you," she said, her smile broaden. Abashed, he was alarmed to experience heat rise within him.

To his immense relief, she was oblivious to his embarrassment. She swiveled around, her blonde cascade of curls bouncing from her rapid movement. Her finger flickered forward before she waved it in a dismissal manner. "You see that, Jim? Now that's complimenting someone nicely."

When he composed himself, he blinked and perceived Jim's eyes regarding him. Spock's eyes indurated. He observed Jim and identified the confusion and bewilderment in his eyes. Spock was acquainted with Jim, more so as his alternative counterpart had predicted a 'friendship' - for after Khan, he was able to perceive Jim as a companion - and being constantly in his presence alleviated his understanding of human nature. Jim had clearly witnessed his abnormal behavior.

When Rose became distracted by one of the other Cadets, she excused herself and departed. He glanced toward Jim, seeing the corner of his lips shift upwards. He folded his hands comfortably in front of him, cleared his throat quietly, glancing away momentarily. He understood the situation and began to plot an appropriate course of action to dispel it.

"Captain," he began respectably.

"It's Jim, Spock," Jim interrupted, his fingers gliding over his mouth. It seemed he was trying to suppress his laughter. Human humor eluded him.

"Jim," he said, slowly. It earned him a grin.

"You like her." It was not a question but a simple statement. His posture was regal as ever, his face blank, refusing to give any indication of his thoughts.

"That is an improbable observation, Capt - Jim. She is a cadet and I am an instructor. It's inappropriate to assum - "

"You didn't answer the question, Spock."

"That is because you did not ask one, Jim."

There was an extended pause between them. Spock, contemplating, looked past Jim's shoulder and witnessed Rose's absurd body movements. Though she faltered with inaccurate precision, she glided effortlessly on her toes. While Rose's companion stood from a distance, a stark contrast, with her dark hair and ill-fitting clothing, there was something more that made Rose a striking individual. And it was not for her physical features, that Spock noted, immensely attracted other's attention. It was her unconventionality that deprived her from being categorized as an average human.

"Don't worry, Spock. Your secret is safe with me," Jim said, breaking the silence. Spock paused and glared at Jim who winked and clapped him on his shoulder. "There's just something about her, isn't there?"

He blinked once, twice. He couldn't lie. "Indeed."


	4. Vanilla

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in updating. I had been busy with finishing my assignments and now that I'm done, I was able to finish this chapter. Hopefully I won't take as long on the next one. But I can't promise anything because my class is taking quite some of my free time. I hope you enjoy!

**FOUR**

* * *

"And it is strange, to find her gone and to feel lost."  
- Unknown

* * *

_#Vanilla_

"Lights."

The lashes covering his stoic eyes flickered against the harsh fluorescence now flooding the office. His back, conformed solely to the embrace of his chair, stood upright – rigid. His gaze shifted to the empty desk sitting in the opposite corner of the room. His eyes instinctively seek for her. A habit he realized he had acquired.

He does not know what to make of this newfound revelation.

Air filled his nostrils, air that is stale with the taint of tea and hints of her scent – vanilla. The sound of his own breath reached his ears, a short, vacant sigh, followed by the scraping of his cup against the cold metal of his desk. He blinked, his finger taped lightly on the tabletop, once and stopped. His hand hovered over the empty workspace, head tilted ever so slightly as if in thought.

He took a deep breath through his nose, chin elevating along with his pronounced, pointed brow into a nonchalant, passive expression. He does not understand why her absence affects him, nor does he have any notion as to its origin, which is the most puzzling realization of all. He is a rational being, a man of logic, of exploring every option made available to him with the most unbiased and critical of eyes. Why, then, does he find himself gazing toward her desk at exactly 0800 – the exact time of her arrival? And why does he become clouded by a feeling he cannot explain, even to himself, when she is absent?

A feeling, one that brings him no satisfaction. He paused. His head tilted to the size in strict contemplation. He must reestablish order, order that he must have. Control. He leaned back, adjusting himself to this frozen feeling with brittle regard, and reached slowly for his tea. Only to find it missing.

Ever so languidly, his eyes dared to drift to the empty desk again.

**xx**

It is late afternoon before he is granted reprieve. The day has passed at a steady pace, though quiet—more quiet than it has ever been. His ears, attuned as they are to even the most delicate sounds of his surrounding, find nothing but noise in conversation and note the severe lacking of incitement.

He walked the Communications lab, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The students have long since filed from the room and yet they leave far too much evidence of their presence. The odd, misplaced chairs, a stray earpiece, the occasional forgotten book or stylus - he organized these with little more than mild annoyance. He barely spared a moment to ponder, only registering that this task had been bestowed on Cadet Rose.

In her care, the lab was in impeccable condition, the instruments correctly calibrated and tuned to their correct frequencies and stations. Rose even handled his lab students with a charm and grace he could not accomplish. There were less complaints about his harsh commands and lack of attentiveness in her presence. Today, he observed the lingering glances toward the empty station she would occupy, their disappointment evident in their eyes. Especially from the males.

Doors swished open automatically as he strode purposefully into the hall, where students' laughter and the shuffling of their standard issue boots create rhythms that his mathematically inclined mind interpret through his ears. Another swish of the motorized doors and the beam of light assault his eyes, the sounds from the building now replaced by the hum of nature—a light rustling of twigs and branches of bare trees in the distance muffled by the wind whipping against the side of his head, the tips of his ears.

And then he sees her, just barely through the touch of sun, the rays on his cheeks. It thaws him. She struggled with a stack of boxes and her handbag, her back to him, and from a quick assessment of her angled stance and attempted pace he concluded she was exhausted.

His feet do not give pause.

"Cadet Rose," he greeted in his approach, shoulders straightened and hands tugging firmly—once—at the hem of his jacket. Her head snapped up, her eyes widening as the grip on the boxes falter. They crumble beneath her, but her eyes remain on him, struggling to stand at attention.

"Commander Spock," she said, locks of her hair falling over her face. She licked her lips and his eyes caught the notion, following it with a steady gaze. For a moment he is at a loss until she lifted her hand against her hair and the problem is alleviated. "I want to apologize for being absent today. I had thought I sent an email explaining but it seemed there had been a malfunction on my computer. I did not feel well and I had gone to sickbay."

His brow furrowed slightly. "Are you well?"

"Quite well, sir," she said, bending down to retrieve the boxes that had fallen. Following her movement, he aided her. His gaze focusing fixedly on the boxes as he tried to disregard the grateful smile she was portraying. "Did you miss me?"

He paused for a mere second before handing her the boxes he had assisted her with. "Given the differential routine of the day, I have been aware of your absence."

"Aw, I'm so touched sir," she grinned, scrunching her nose slightly. A detail that is not lost on him. She began to move forward, finding her balance. He strode easily next to her. "I see that you depend on my company and my awesome wits!"

"That is a highly illogical statement, Miss Rose," he interjected. "I do not depend - "

"It was a joke, sir," she interrupted. He knows she's smiling. But he does not look. When she abruptly halted. Incognizant, he found his shoulder brushing against hers. Her hair trailing over his arms, her vanilla scent filling his nostrils. He took several steps backwards, unprepared for the overwhelming thoughts that filled his mind. "Well, kinda. There's no one around, sir. You can say that you missed the best student aid you've ever had, which is me!"

He contemplated on this, and then a breath. "To miss first implies a loss, a disappearance of an object or even an idea that was either misplaced or perhaps never conceived or attained to begin with. It often refers to the noted absence of something of value-" and he stopped, the angle of his head moving slightly as it dawned on him, warmed him as he took in the softening, amused smile on the young woman before him. "Yes," he says softly, almost as a breath, and then a nod. "Yes I believe your conclusion is accurate."

"I knew it! All you had to say was 'yeah, I missed you'," She exclaimed with a tentative crane of her neck, her blue eyes glinting against the light. "You're cool and all but you're a strange guy, you know that?"

He inhaled sharply with his shoulders straightened, a cool and calculated visage upon his face. "I find your assessment neither complimentary nor critical," he stated easily. "As Vulcan I am foreign to Earth, 'alien' by archaic terms, and thus 'strange' by definition-"

He is stopped completely by a gentle warmth against his arm. He cannot see her now, she is no longer in his line of direct sight, but he felt her palm and her fingers splayed calmly against the side of his elbow. And then he felt the gentlest pressure against the opposing arm, and a rising heat before him. He realized she has closed the distance between them.

Distance that should always remain, and yet now...now it does not, with the slightest touch of her cheek to the hollow of his cheek. A small embrace. Silence engulfed them as she pulled back. There is no embarrassment or knowledge of the improperness of such an action she had just performed in her features. There is only an oblivious amusement in her eyes.

"That's my gratitude for accepting my absence and for admitting that you missed me, which I'm completely flattered by the way," she said, and he was not certain if he heard a heavy note of sarcasm in her tone. "But for sure, I'll be in your office tomorrow bright and early! I won't disappoint! If there's nothing else I can do for you, Commander..."

He lifted his head to regard her. He is still warm. "Of course. Dismissed."

She granted him another smile, but does not move. It is he that walked away, with the telltale of her laughter echoing through the empty area to his ears.


	5. Bliss

**FIVE**

* * *

"You've a place in my heart no one else ever could have."  
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Ice Palace

* * *

_#Bliss_

He entered the Communications Lab at precisely 0745, or rather stood stark still just inside the door. Empty, as per usual, at this time. But the fluorescent light does not sting his dark eyes, and his brow does not furrow to shield him from the momentary flicker. The heels of his boots thud softly across the floor, his hands behind his back, shoulders straight.

The walk to his office is slow, deliberate. Upon entering his office, he almost completely disregards the darkness and made his way to his desk, with steps taken so carefully and accurate.

"Lights." His usual tone, wrought with confidence and precision, is soft today. As is the touch of his forefinger and middle to the top of the table now at his side. He tapped, lost in some train of thought, one, two, and halted his hand against the cool metal in pause. His eyelashes fluttered just lightly. As he sat, he felt the chill in the room. And the blinds are still closed. Her chair empty. He straightened.

"Computer -" he began, and then there is the sound of a _swish_, the door, in his ears. He turned his gaze sharply, curiously, heard the clicking of boot heels against the floor before he caught a glimpse of her deep red standard issue uniform before him. He said nothing as their eyes meet. She stood in front of his desk with a cup of tea.

He regarded the mug in her hand as she offered it to him, her gesture more of a command than a suggestion. His eyebrow raised, the expression on her face is one of quiet calmness, a feature he is not accustom to seeing on her. And yet there is something different in her eyes. There is always something different in her eyes.

"You are late," he finally deigned to say, tilting his chin ever so slightly in a nod that could have been conceived as condescending.

There is a pause before her calm exterior vanished and replaced by one he was familiarized with - her mischievous grin. "Yeah, I know, Commander. But I'm two minutes late! Just two minutes! So I brought you this for a peace offering." She simply stood, offering him the tea, her eyes set on his.

He took the tea. And it is warm and spiced and pleasing to him. After giving pause, his eyes flickering out of focus for a moment as he deliberated his words, "I trust that your tardiness will not be made a habit, Miss Rose."

She tilted her head, her eyes gentle as her finger tapped her chin lightly. "You know, sir. I really dislike you calling me Miss Rose. Since I've been your student aide for a while now, you should call me Dahlia."

He does not repeat her words, aloud. He took a deep breath through his nose and blinked, palming his desk. "I seem to have misplaced my - " He started, tapping his desk when he is stopped again, this time by the blur of a hand out of the corner of his eye. Looking up once more, he saw her neatly manicured hand hovering over his desk, extending his PADD. His eyebrow rose, the corner of his mouth tilted, and there is the trace of a dimple on his cheek as his eyelids narrow at the tool in her hand.

"Yep, you sure missed me," she said, her blonde mane of curls sweeping over her shoulder as she leaned to the side. He reached forward and accepted the tool from the grasp of her fingers.

She slightly turned away from him, her eyes sweeping the office. "Computer, open the blinds." The computer acknowledged, and a spill of sunlight caressed the room.

His eyes moved and regarded his PADD, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the screen. He sat stiffly on the chair, his back rigid. He heard her movements as she came around to his side of the desk, resting one hand on the back of his chair and leaned forward, letting her hair trickle against the side of his face.

His hand froze. A sharp, silent intake of breath. He can smell her faint aroma, the coolness radiated from her skin. "Sir, I wanted to ask you about the assignment you gave your advanced phonology students. I wanted to understand why a particular student received a lower grade than I had anticipated."

Then she shifted, her cheek was level with his, her ear touching his, her gaze was solely on the screen. He was rendered from logical reasoning, disoriented as he fought to even his breathing.

"Spock?"

Temporarily distracted, the voice aided him to suppress with militant restraint the enigmatic insights coursing through his mind. His eyes settled on Nyota who was regarding Dahlia with narrowed eyes.

Dahlia relocated herself to her desk, her hand raised in a greeting motion. "Uhura, it's nice to see you."

"Likewise," Nyota replied, but he was certain it was otherwise. He had studied her, allevating his understanding of her to convey the distant regard she gave Dahlia. Her gaze slowly moved to him. "Spock, I would like a word. In private. Outside."

When he composed himself throughly, he raised his brow slightly at her tone and her particular usage of her words. Her eyes searched his. A silent plead. For a moment, he found himself adrift, feeling ...feeling ...

He blinked, unsure of this feeling he had for Nyota. She had been with him during his hardships, her warmth and unique attributes provided him comfort and assurance. His guilt, his silence, his loneliness forbidding him from entering where peace resided.

She had offered unyielding support. Her lips, so expressive in their every movement, had promised solace. She had been the sole purpose for his ever breath, he had looked to her for affirmation, her acceptance a mantra that beat in time with his pulse.

But now he found himself constantly detached from her. Their relationship no longer having competence over him that rendered him with ease. He apprehended it was illogical to compare, but while Nyota was impatient, her demand for him to share his emotions openly, Dahlia was patiently at his side. Though she was as persistent as Nyota, she was understanding of his lack of attentiveness. She accepted it as they drank tea quietly together, understanding his silent need for companionship.

"Acknowledged, Uhura. I have an important matter to discuss as well," he said, indifferent. His eyes gaze toward Dahlia for a few seconds as he regarded her. She shuffled around her chair, sprawling her work over the desk, avoiding making eye contact. When he passed her, he caught the scent of her fragrance that he had missed - _missed_.

He discerned the essential action he must commit. He could not continue to pursue a discordant relationship that has crumbled. Nyota deserved someone that appreciated her and recognized her value, her integrity, her devotion. He needed to bestow her what she had offered him. Hope to move forward. But not alongside him, for his eyes searched for another.

Before he exited his office, following Nyota to a more private setting, his gaze wandered and he saw Dahlia smiling, illuminated by sunlight.

And he is at peace.


	6. Eyes

**SIX**

* * *

"His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows,  
almost nothing needs to be said when you gaze into his eyes."  
- T.V.G

* * *

**Nyota**

In the stark clarity of recollection, Nyota can identify the exact moment when everything changed. It happened when the beautiful young Cadet appeared and had cracked the impenetrable wall Spock had expectedly constructed around his indomitable exterior. A wall she had attempted to dissolve for years, to understand his forbidden thoughts and feelings. All Dahlia had to do was accidentally kiss him, her delicate fingers brushing against his, grasping something Nyota never could. Her heart ceased to beat upon seeing that accidental intimate moment, taking the fragile pieces of her hopes for the future.

Nyota did not realize it at the time. As intelligent as she knew herself to be, all she felt in that horrible moment was desolated. She had accepted the kiss to be insignificant to Spock. She wanted to deny the distance that began to expand between him and herself. She wanted to deny the small displayed of attentiveness Spock had for Dahlia.

It terrified her, to asseverated the way his eyes seeked for the young Cadet. How Dahlia easily triggered emotions buried deep beneath the confines of his carefully constructed restraint.

When she was angry, she tried to provoke him, commenting on his behavior toward the young Cadet. He rebuffed calmly, dismissing the notion. She continued with her rant, but he unilaterally ignored it. His simple respond was his noticeable presence at her side.

"And yet I find that is not enough."

Nyota stood with him for a long time after that, in silence. Their fingers were twined together but his mind had never been further from her. She knew better than to entreat him much further than she already had, because he would not bend in his vigil of penance.

He retreated, locked and barred into his mind. He had walked away and she accepted his departure. She foolishly believed this was a passing turbulence. She was still convinced that though his mind was elsewhere, his heart was still hers.

She tolerated Dahlia's constant presence as Spock's student aide. The small exchanges of conversation here and there and the mildly chess matches in his office. Nyota even found it amusing that the young Cadet would hold the delusion that she could ever beat a Vulcan in the holy shrine of logical strategy.

But yet, Dahlia carved out her first victory, which incensed Spock enough that their engagements became more frequent. He even began to take his meals in his office daily. Nyota would be accompanied by solitude, longing for the times when he was still hers, drawing her close for strength when everything around him had crumbled. Now, he searched for another.

When Nyota finally snapped, it was in Spock's office. Dahlia witnessed the whole ordeal, her mind not fully understanding that Spock _adored_ her. That all this was happening because of _her_. Before Nyota knew what she had decided, she strode toward his office. The scene before her made her falter. They were both gazing at the computer screen, Dahlia's gaze steadily on it while Spock's seemed unfocus, his stoic exterior faltering.

She tried to pull him out of his thoughts of Dahlia, the need for his eyes to seek hers alleviated. She commanded to speak with him and he complied, following her out of his office.

She felt as though she couldn't breathe. Pinching her eyes shut tightly, she forced herself to meditate silently as Spock had once taught her, to push aside the hurricane of emotion and focus on cold logic. She needed to focus on facts and reality as the only road to truth. Once she calmed herself, the truth she was left with was that even absent of all else, Spock was logical and honest. Either he did not know, or had not yet allowed himself to realize what was really happening.

When she stopped by a private corner, he stood with his hands behind his back, cordial. "It appears you have something to discuss."

"Do you love me, Spock?"

Pause. "I find I do not know how to answer your question."

"Truthfully, Spock!" Her voice was rising now, sharp and taught, and she felt her eyes begin to sting despite her best efforts. "It's a simple question! Do you love me? Did you ever love me?"

"Those are two different questions."

"Spock!" She turned her back to him, tears brimming in her eyes spilled over. "Please, Spock." She hated the pleading tone in her voice and the coarseness of her emotion, but she could not fight it off now. It ran too deep. "Just tell me the truth."

"It is not easy for me to define-" Spock began, but was cut off by Nyota who repeated the question.

"Am I in possession of your love?" She chose her words carefully so that there could be no misunderstanding the context. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and gentle, but the words chosen carefully were not. "You were at one time."

"I was." The words were bitter in her mouth. His use of the past tense was not lost on her.

"Yes."

"But not anymore." Somewhere deep inside her consciousness, she expected this. She _knew_ it would happen. But it didn't prevent her from becoming acutely aware of the fact that right at this moment, she will truly loose him.

"No."

There was nothing else to be said. She needed to leave, to nurse her broken heart. She needed fresh air, she needed to catch her breath. She needed ..._him_. No, she needed to know.

"Do you love her?"

He froze, his posture tensed. "Please clarify."

"Dahlia. Do you love Dahlia?"

When he turned back to look at her his face was a mask of stone, but his eyes were clouded with confusion. "I find your use of the term unclear. Did you intend to -"

"Don't bullshit me Spock! I need to know. Is she the object of your love?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. She saw it, in his eyes.

**ooo**

**CAROL**

There was something infinitely humbling about the boom of thunder. Different from the roar of an engine or the steady noise of a city, it was one of nature's most imposing sounds. Carol felt the corner of her lip tug as it resonated on the high-ceiling window, casting out across the inky grey clouds. The green of the yard was vibrant under the torrential downpour, the thunder having cracked open the sky.

"Ah, no! I don't want to hear what you're about to say! La, la, la, not listening!"

Carol turned away from the window to gaze toward Dahlia, who was covering her ears with her hands. Her eyes then sought for Jim's. He was leaning forward, his mischievous eyes glinting as his laughter echoed around her. Finally, his eyes locked with hers.

Carol had never realized just how empty her life was until she'd found him. The lonely, empty void in her heart, the one that she had been nursing since the day of her parents' divorce and the death of her father at the hands of Khan. He had been by her side, not asking for anything in return. Though his past reputation was still ever present, with the warnings she had received about him, he had began to mature. He had shown her the parts of him that no one else knew. And ever so slowly, he had won her over.

"Carol, since she doesn't want to listen to me, you should talk to her about the the birds and the bees. Can you believe it? She's a - "

"Oh my _God_! Shut up, Jim!"

The two of them argued and bickered back and forth for awhile, much to the amusement of Bones and herself. Her eyes wondered over the mess hall, drifting over the crowded tables with Cadets before her eyes landed by the entrance. The door opened, a shadow parted forward and quickly formed into the tall, daunting, impressive figure of Commander Spock. Although Spock's appearance hadn't changed, Carol noticed a weariness and perpetual sadness in the half-Vulcan's eyes. However, that sadness faded when his eyes rested on their table.

He entered with innate grace. He was stock still, he barely looked like he was breathing. He was rigid, his gaze unrelenting. When he arrived at their table, she could hear Bones mutter something under his breath. Carol ignored him, giving Spock a welcoming smile.

"Is this seat taken, Doctor Marcus?"

"No at all, Commander," she answered, sliding her food to make room for him. He sat down silently next to Dahlia, who was too distracted to notice his presence.

Carol eyed them closely. Dahlia was the embodiment of exaggeration compared to Spock's stoicism. Her blonde cascade of curls and vivid blue eyes contrasted starkly to Spock's dark hair and eyes.

As Dahlia and Jim continued with their bickering match, Spock leaned over, his gaze meeting hers. "Should we lend our assistance at the prospect of difficulty or simply observe?"

He sounded slightly concerned as they began hurling insults back and forth. Bones tried to settle the two down, but instead embedded himself into the argument. Carol laughed and shook her head.

"No, let them continue. They'll cease when they forget what they're fighting about," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. He gave a curt nod before pulling out his PADD and began working quietly and efficiently on it.

"Would you like some fruit, Commander?" Carol asked politely.

"Thank you, but I will decline," he replied without looking up. His fingers glide expertly on the screen, his eyes flicker slowly back and forth until they narrowed with concentration. A loud booming, inappropriate song rippled around them from his PADD. A lift of his brow, he gazed up toward Jim who had ceased his match with Dahlia and Bones. Jim stared at Spock with an utter, unmasked amusement.

There was a pause. "Sometimes I worry about the absurd degree of effort you put into your jokes, Captain."

"Oh, come on, Spock! Not even a small smile! I worked so hard on that joke!" Jim said, leaning toward Carol and winked. She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we should get you plastered, sir. Loosen you up a bit," Dahlia added, smiling. Carol's eyes widen a fraction, expecting to see anger or disapproval in Spock's eyes. But his face was a polite blankness.

"Miss Rose, I don't - "

"Relax, sir, I'm only joking. A bit."

"He's Vulcan, Dahlia. You can't get that pointy eared bastard drunk," Bones added, his pointed look resting on Spock who's gaze rested solely on Dahlia.

"Since when?" She asked, shocked.

"Vulcans don't drink, Dahlia. And by the way, what's with you and trying to get everyone drunk? I already have enough handling Jim and now I gotta handle a girl version of him!" Bones exclaimed, his eyes trained on Dahlia while his finger moved toward Jim.

"You're one to talk, Bones! You whine about everything like a little pussy!"

Carol shook her head in amusement. Another bickering match began, and on occasions Spock inserted his own intellectual interpretation. There was a calm, playful atmosphere between them until Jim asked about Spock's relationship with Uhura which prompted a tense silence. Everyone shared a look.

"We have terminated our relationship," Spock answered in a tone that was dangerously calm and composed. Carol noticed that everyone is surprised by this revelation. He's quiet for a long moment and Carol tried to figure out a new topic to discuss about, glaring at Jim who had the decency to look sheepish.

Before she could begin conversing, Spock continued, "I attempted to do so on acceptable terms, but it seems Uhura still holds some manner of negative feelings toward me. I do not believe she found my reasoning ...sufficient."

"Take it from a man with experience," Bones began, easily giving him a rueful smile. "There is no way you'll be in good terms with your ex. Even if you had a good reason to dump them, you lose either way."

"But why?" Jim asked, forgetting his embarrassment. His eyes focused on Spock curiously. "What happened? You guys lacked compatibility or what?"

"That," Spock answered, somewhat quieter now, "Among other things." His eyes slid down to the table, then up to look at Dahlia. Carol blinked. Maybe she was just imagining things.

"What other things?"

"Jim! Mind your own damn business you nosy idiot!" Dahlia exclaimed, defending him. Dahlia, unintentionally leaned closer to Spock, her shoulder brushing his. He stiffened and there is a light tinge of green dusting his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

Puzzled, Carol decided to pay closer attention to Spock, because maybe, just maybe she wasn't seeing things.

"Sorry, Spock. Didn't mean to interrogate you like that," Jim apologized, his eyes softening. He crossed his arms and leaned forward. "I hope there won't be any problems in working together."

"I assure you, Captain. There will be no falter in our professions," Spock replied easily. His deep, vacant eyes held the barest hint of frustration. Bones cleared his throat after a moment of silence before he began a light conversation with Jim.

Carol kept her eyes steady on Dahlia and Spock. She wanted to discerned the enigmatic situation. She saw Dahlia turn to Spock, staring at him expectantly. He stayed silent, his posture stiff and staring pointedly ahead. Upon realizing he was going to remain taciturn, Dahlia rolled her eyes before smiling.

"Hey, Dahlia! You ready?" A voice bellowed from across the mess hall. Dahlia looked away from Spock, her gaze turning to the male Cadet calling for her. She excused herself before walking briskly toward him, her stride effortlessly as she stepped forward, arms extended and wrapped themselves around the male's neck.

As a loud thunder roared outside, catching everyone's attention, their eyes sought toward the window. Spock's gaze stayed frozen on Dahlia and the male Cadet. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they held the barest hint of something, something Carol couldn't identify.

When the male Cadet intertwined his fingers with Dahlia's and pulled her alongside him, Carol was the only who witnessed the odd behavior of the normally staid, calculating Commander. The only one that noticed the slight flutter of his eyes as they cast themselves downward in sadness.

**ooo**

**JIM**

For all the excitement promised by a career in Starfleet, with its allure of adventure and heroics, the majority of the time is an exercise in tedium. Hours spent sitting in a chair that hardens as the day progresses will test anyone's sanity. It is the essence of boredom that even the stars have no variance, each a white shimmer of blinking monotony. He wasn't sure why he agreed to test the Kobayashi Maru scenario. It was a simple reminder of his prior exasperating ways.

Jim can only stifle the yawn for the sake of appearance. When a message appeared on his private communicator, he tried not to show his immense relief at the _distraction_. But once understanding the message, he swiftly ran to Medical bay. He ignored the puzzled questions hurled at him as he simply left his post and passed the crowded corridors.

Before he turned a sharp corner, he glimpsed the form of Spock and Bones lingering by the doors. He halted abruptly.

"How is she fairing, Doctor?" Spock asked, clasping his hands behind his back. Though to anyone else, a glimpse of the stoic Vulcan would compel them to assume his indifference and lack of emphasis. But Jim wasn't just anyone else.

"She lost a lot of blood," Bones began cautiously. "She - "

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said stiffly as his fists clenched behind his back. "Is she alive?"

"Of course she is," Bones said, slightly startled before his face morphed into irritation. "If you would have let me finish you green hobl - "

"I must see her." Spock interrupted. He started forward again but stopped when Bones held up a hand.

"Shut your yap!" Bones huffed when he saw Spock ready to protest. "Look, I don't know what yah two got going on but I need you to be honest with me here - Ah no! Let me finish. I know Vulcans aren't suppose to feel and all that crap but last night, I saw the way you looked at her and I had a talk with Carol," he said slowly, eyeing Spock critically. "All I'm asking here is do you feel something for her?"

There was a deep, tense pause between the two males. Spock tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtfully at the man before him. "Doctor, you are correct in your assumption that I did in fact feel, though I do not wish to discuss what that entailed."

Bones threw up his hands. "Spock, you didn't answer the question!" He pointed an accusing finger toward him. "Do you have feelings for her?"

Spock straightened his shoulders. "It has come to my attention that I harbor strong feelings for Miss Rose, but - "

"I knew it!" Came a loud, deep voice as it boomed in the otherwise silent space. Both Bones and Spock stared intently at him. Discovered, Jim scrambled out of his hiding space.

"Took you long enough, Spock," Jim exclaimed, his grin widening as he stood next to Bones. "What are you gonna do now?"

Pause. "I do not know how to proceed with this information."

"Just tell her," McCoy said, giving him a reassuring smile. His vast change of mood always bewildered Jim.

"And tell her she's hot and you wanna make out with her," Jim inserted. They both ignored him.

"Look, before you go in there you have to know what happen. The guy she ran off with earlier had been in a gruesome fight with some other Cadets who had been armed. There was some misunderstanding and Dahlia was caught in between the fight," Bones began uneasily. Jim noticed how Spock clenched his jaw tightly. "She put up a fight, a good fight at that I'll tell yah! She only lost a lot of blood because of the open wound she received in her left abdomen. She's a strong girl but she's gonna stay in sickbay for a few days."

"Did Starfleet handle those son of a bitches?" Jim asked, his face hardening.

Bones nodded in affirmation as they all filed into the Medical bay, the door opening swiftly. Their eyes rested on the young woman who was trying to climb off of the medical bed, ignoring the exclamation of the nurse.

"And where do you think you're going, darling?" Bones asked, moving forward and grabbing the tricorder from the nurse's hand. "Dahlia, get your ass back on that bed, you're not going anywhere."

Dahlia rolled her eyes before she rested herself against the bed again, her head moving against her pillow, hiding. She groaned, which was muffled by her pillow. "Ah, come on, Bones! I'm in perfect condition to leave!"

"I don't think so young lady! You are to stay in sickbay for at least three more days before I can relieve you to your quarters."

"This is ridiculous," she exclaimed, sitting up. She turned her pleading eyes to Spock. "Commander, help a girl out."

Jim gazed toward Spock, trying to suppress his laughter on seeing his First Officer flushed under her gaze, but replied dutifully. "I believe the doctor is correct in his diagnoses, Miss Rose. Your body underwent severe trauma and is therefore required to rest."

She let out aloud sigh before she flopped back against the medical bed. She then turned her attention to Jim, her face morphing into one of joy. "Hey, you! You should have seen me kick their asses. You would have been proud!"

"I bet you did. That's my girl," Jim said, giving her a serene smile. "I wouldn't mind giving them a good beating right about now, but let's not think about that. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thanks," she whispered, reaching for his hand. Jim wrapped his hand around hers and gave her a gentle squeeze. From the corner of his eye, he saw Spock's discomfort at the gesture.

"Hey, I just remembered, I need to go talk to Bones right quick and Spock needs to tell you something," Jim said, exchanging a look with Spock before he grabbed Bones's arm and dragged him along with him, much to Bones dismay.

But Jim, being ever himself, simply hid behind a corner, ignoring Bones dry, witty comments. He saw Spock grab a chair and placed it beside the bed, sitting down slowly.

"How are you faring, Cadet?" He asked.

"Okay, I guess," Dahlia answered. She tilted her head up to gaze at Spock. "I wanted to thank you, sir. I heard that you were the one who found me and took me to Medical bay and stood by my side. There are no words to express my gratitude."

His eyes drifted from his footwear to the wall just left of her head. "It is not necessary," he said, his eyes slowly meeting hers. "I am ...I am pleased you are alright, Dahlia."

"Still, thank you, sir," she said. "So, what's wrong? Jim said you needed to tell me something?"

Spock seemed to become uncomfortable, shifting slightly in the chair, his hands clasped tightly on his knees. Jim and Bones exchanged a perplexing look, not use to seeing Spock so uneasy.

"Commander?"

"You lost a significant amount of blood, Dahlia," Spock said, standing up. "You should rest. We will discuss it at a later time."

Her hand snagged his sleeve slightly and he froze. "Nice try, sir. What's the matter? You can tell me." There was a pause before her eyes widened. "Ah, shit, listen, whatever Jim told you is complete bull shit. I never thought that idiot would actually go through with it, I mean it was his idea. We were all plastered out of our minds and - "

"Miss Rose, what are you referring to?"

"Oh." Jim held in his laughter, remembering that night perfectly. There was nothing more memorable than having a plastered Dahlia who is easily persuaded to be your accomplice. He ignored the confused glare Bones was giving him. "Nothing. Nothing, please continue Commander."

Spock paused. Both Jim and Bones held their breath. "Miss Rose, I have no expectations, only to profess - "

"Keptin! Scotty haz requezted de presence of yuh an Commander Zpock," The heavy accented, high pitched voice interrupted Spock and everyone's attention turned to the swift entrance of Chevok. Jim groaned and shook his head. When he searched for Spock, he found him standing next to him, fully alert. But his eyes, they held something Jim couldn't identify.

When he passed the young Ensign, Jim shook his head. "Great timing, Chevok, great timing."

* * *

**A/N:** PLEASE GUYS! I'M BEGGING! I don't really know what's going on because I haven't had that many reviews. No pressure or anything but I'll appreciate it if I had more feedback and reviews guys, please!


	7. Confession

**A/N:** Wow, THANKS so much for the positive reviews I recieved in my last chapter! I'm so glad many of you took the time to leave me good feedback. I really appreciate it so much! A special thanks to **SexyZexy, MaireLillian, julesjumper, ElektraMackenzie, spiritoflovers, TheFelineFeral, Teddy bear 007, Aphrodite96** & guest/anonymous reviews! This chapter is for you guys!

* * *

**SEVEN**

"Let me tell you something, my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane."  
- Stephen King, The Shawshank Redemption

* * *

_#Confession_

Silence.

Except for the steady beat of her heart on the monitor, their slow intake of breaths, the small raspy sound of her body shifting against the rumpled bed. Her eyes meet his occasionally, dark and shadowed. Face smooth and politely blank. She asked him what's on his mind.

"You have been confined in medical bay for two days, and still have yet to recover completely." Spock noted with a dissatisfied furrow of his brow. His shoulders lowered with slight resignation.

His plain concern for her health is baffling but it does not change the fact that Dahlia finds it charming. She tilted her head further back to gaze up at him. He looked troubled. His fingers twitched against his thigh and his gaze wandered to the biofunction monitor resting by the side of her bed. His deep eyes become searching.

"Yeah, I guess. Bones said I could leave tomorrow, though," she said, giving him a tentative smile. "So now you don't have to keep me company any more. It must have been completely boring babysitting me! Especially when I had been unconscious for the most part."

"I do not comprehend what you mean," he murmured with a distracted manner. His eyes were thoughtful as his gaze finally descended to her eyes. "I did not mind your lack of consciousness. It was quite pleasant to accompany you in your silent state."

_What_ the ...She shifted her head backwards as she gave a loud, loose fit of laughter."I never thought you had it in you, Commander! You are wicked!"

His eyes darken in contemplation as he stared at her with quiet intensity. "Forgive me, I fail to see in how far my statement was particularly amusing."

"You just said in your own way that I talk too much!" Dahlia said in between her laughter. "You calling me an annoying wench?"

Spock looked at her sharply. "Your humor eludes me."

"Your humor eludes me!" She playfully tried to mimic his serious tone, her voice deep and raspy. Her chin alleviated, giving him a condescending, indifference look before her features morphed into amusement.

There is something in his eyes she doesn't recognize. He gazed toward her, long and hard, before casting his eyes away slowly to the side, then shifted them up to the ceiling, and then back down to her. Dahlia blinked several times before she smiled with a breathless laugh. This was amazing!

"Did you you just roll your eyes at me, Commander?"

"Vulcans do not _roll their eyes_, Cadet," Spock carefully corrected. He tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes regarding her carefully.

"I'm so proud, Commander! I annoyed you enough to make you roll your eyes at me! I must find a way to make you smile!"

Spock blithely concurred, his dark gaze remaining steady. "Cadet, Vulcans do not - "

"Challenge accepted."

There was a slight movement in the corner of his lip - she was sure of it - and she let loose another rippled of laughter. His mouth moved in a way that meant he had more he wanted to convey but absently, she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand, interrupting him. "Sorry."

"Do not be." His eyes were distant again, but they seemed contemplative rather than self-reproaching.

"So, Commander - " she began and without thinking, she leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. He grew impossibly stiller. She could feel his warmth through the thick, black fabric of his instructor's uniform. "I just remembered that you had something to tell me but you keep dodging it. So, what is it?"

Abstractedly, her hand smooth over his arm before she touched the naked skin of his inner wrist. Her fingers accidentally brushing the inside of his palm. She inhaled a deep, startled breath when she felt herself falling into ..._him._

_Bottomless heartache that was so dark and horrifying and ever present and too much ...  
Alone so severe ...guilt so much guilt ...  
Regret and unfulfillment and an aching need ...  
But there was a light in all this darkness, a small glow...  
She gazed toward it ...reached for it ...  
A star in the far of distance ...  
She heard laughter, a face formed in all this blackness ...  
it was _her ...

Everything happened in mere seconds but she saw it, all of it. He pulled back suddenly, breaking their contact. His eyes had slightly widen a fraction, staring at her, his exterior restraint slightly faltering.

Without realizing her actions, she moved forward, throwing her arms around his neck and kissed him on his cheeks, across his jaw, along his neck, anywhere she could reach him. He was solidified as she kissed him and she panicked because she couldn't stop. When her lips kissed his, she caressed his skin gently, her mind not permitting her clarity.

He was unmoving and she was beginning to withdraw but then there was pressure pushing back, the slightest, lightest pressure. Encouraged, she pulled him tighter against her, deepening the kiss. The need for his touch so severe and immense. And then it was over and his forehead pressed against hers, her chest heaved, taking deep breaths.

"Forgive me," he said, so low she barely heard him. He pressed his face into her shoulder, his arms grasping her firmly, his fingers digging gently against her backside. She was still shocked, his thoughts, his emotions running coarsely through her.

"What was that?" She finally asked, breathless. She knew that Vulcans were touch-telepaths. Though she had touched his skin before, he had never permitted her to witness so much of ...him.

He pulled away, his face inches away from hers. His warm brown eyes were gentle, so tentative that it rendered her speechless. "You accidentally experienced a deplorable mind meld. I transferred my emotions to you and it prompted a reaction out of your control."

"What I'm feeling right now are your emotions?" She asked carefully, taking deep breaths to control her beating heart.

He hesitated. "Yes."

"Spock, I ..." She moved away from him, her hand covering her mouth as her head tilted to the side. He couldn't be ... It was impossible ... But she felt it. Everything. "I don't understand."

"It will be logical for you to report me for my unacceptable - "

"Spock, of course I'm not going to do that!" Dahlia screeched. She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You did nothing wrong. It was me who made physical contact and practically jumped your bones! I'm sorry, Spock."

She licked her dried lips, moving forward again and grasped his broad shoulders. She smooth her hands over the thick, soft black fabric before cupping his cheeks lightly. She gazed up at him, her eyes distressed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly. She was sorry that she had experienced his emotions without his consent. She was sorry that she had been oblivious for his obvious affections for her. But most of all, she was sorry that she couldn't reciprocate the need he had for her.

"I must take my leave. You are in dire need of rest, Cadet." He slowly prided himself from her touch, his pensive eyes distant. He began to walk away.

Dahlia sat down on her bed, overcome by everything coursing through her mind and her heart. When she found her voice again, she called for him. Her eyes searching for his familiar imposing figure.

But he was already gone.

* * *

**A/N: **What do you think? Please let me know your thoughts! The story will only keep going if I hear/know people are enjoying it, so off you go! Review, please :)


	8. Goodbye

**A/N: **Decided to post the next chapter. No need to wait when I already finished it. :)

* * *

**EIGHT**

"That's all it takes. One lonely naive man, desperate to show off.  
And a woman clever enough to make him feel special."  
- Mycroft Holmes

* * *

_#Goodbye_

He was different.

She had never realized how differently he had acted around her before. With anyone else, his face fell into its typical mask of formidable with efficient grace. His demeanor distant and formal. When they would depart, his shoulders would relax slightly and his gaze warmed in her presence.

Having watched the transition with more clarity and understanding now, Dahlia realized his differential behavior toward her. She was strucked with grief upon seeing his drastic change. She was no longer graced with his amenable exterior.

After his accidental confession and her uncontrollable actions, he had made sure to distant himself from her. She would work at her desk as she watched him working at his - focused solely on his computer monitor - disregarding her presence. Yet, little hints in his motions gave him away.

When she made a noise, any noise, he paused so slightly that at first she thought she was imagining it. When she took a deep breath, she saw his back straighten and his hand slightly falter in movement.

"Am I bothering you?"

"No. Not at all." He is gazing at her as he spoke, his eyes dark, his face a mask. But something in his face crumbled a fraction, and his eyes shifted, catching the light.

Sad. They look sad.

Leaning forward, her chair was pulled out and angled toward him, her eyes gazing at him. Without her consent, her lips moved on their own accord as she began to fill the void silence that grew between them.

But his desolated eyes dismissed her efforts. "Cadet, I must request the rescinding of further conversation."

Her smile faltered, a frown descended over her delicate features. Something in his tone, or more exactly, in his distance pained her immensely. In her inability to feel him made her heavy hearted.

She stood from her desk, her steps brisk as she slightly stumbled forward in her haste to leave his office. She returned minutes later with a cup of tea. "Here," she said, her voice deliberately bright. "I brought you something."

She held her open hands together, the heavy mug cradled in her palms. He made no indication of movement to receive her gift. Instead, his pensive eyes were wary as they rested on her. Her hands shook under his cold, calculating glare, not accustom in being the sole purpose of his vexation.

"I thought ...that you might like it since you drink a lot of tea and ..stuff," she said quietly, her eyelashes fluttering downward in dejection. She is slowly moving away, back to her desk, accepting his cold dismissal when she saw a slight movement of his silhouette.

She froze. Spock stepped cautiously toward her and she can hear his steady breathing. She gazed toward his guarded face, searching for that odd sensation that is missing, the feeling of him reaching to her in some indefinable way. But all she can see is his severe facade.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he prided the mug from her fingers. Only then, when the mug rested in his own hands, did he look away.

"My gratitude, Cadet," was his prompt reply. His stance, so aloof and frigid, made her mournful as there eventuated a void in her heart. How had she not noticed how important he had become to her?

She stepped closer to him when he shifted toward his desk. Her voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to apologize for what I did."

He paused. The slow, deliberate blinking of his eyes was the only sign of his discomfort. "There is no need for an apology when there is no problem to suffice ."

"You know what I'm talking about, Spock. I kissed you," she declared impulsively.

"Yes." His posture was tense and crisp, his expression unreadable. His gaze was fixed on his desk. One of his hands was clenched into a severe grip.

"You kissed me back."

"You have a remarkable facility to isolate and identify important details." His clipped voice alternated gently to one she was familiarized with; smooth and comforting.

Her eyes slightly narrowed playfully. Her heart was beating against her chest as she dared to hope. Aspiration flared inside her. "Are you teasing me?"

"You sought to provide comfort against your will. I cannot fault you for your uncontrollable behavior. But now that the moment has passed, do you regret your actions?" His voice was low and tense, betraying his calm demeanor.

At last he met her gaze, and she is struck by how tired he looked. In the way he was leaning on the desk made him seem less intimidating and almost ...human. She tilted her head, her hand tentatively reaching for him. Her motion provoked him as he instantly suppressed that part of him and surrounded himself with rigid restraint.

"Have a good evening, Cadet Rose," he brusquely said, giving her brittle regard. He stepped around her, but she couldn't let him walk away again. She blocked his exit.

"Spock, please, I'm sorry. This can't go on like this. I ...I miss you," she said, feeling her lips tremble. "Your dismissal and indifference pains me and I want ...I want ...shit ..." she trailed off, her eyes lost for a moment, "I don't know what I want. But I can't have you looking at me as if I'm the worst thing in the world. Therefore, I hereby withdraw from being your student aide as I fail - "

She stopped when Spock loomed over her, with an expression on his face she had never seen there before. Impulsively, she stumbled sideways when he lunged for her, managing to catch her balance against the cool surface of his desk. But he was quick, his movements precise as he grasped her waist painfully, his body leaning over hers, blocking her escape.

She cannot seem to remember how to breathe. Her eyes are wide and disbelieving as they gaze into his. Although his features are neutral and composed, his eyes are fierce. When he leaned down, closing the distance between them, Dahlia inhaled a startled gasp as he captures her lips with his.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, she realized, when her lips moved on their own accord, accepting his demanding, passionate kiss. But she found it was something completely new. A soft moan escaped her as she raked her fingers through his hair while she arched her back to press her body further into his.

An unfamiliar sensation rushed through her body as his hands trailed over the hollowness of her spine. His grip was strong and fluid, new and exciting. When their lips parted, he breathed in, taking all the air from her body and left her feeling light headed. He rested his cheek against hers, his lips trailing along her jaw.

She shivered under his warm breath, her eyes closing tighter as she breathed out. Her fingers clutched his dark strands before smoothing them down his neck. She eased herself closer, her lips searching for his again.

Suddenly, she doesn't feel him anymore and she blindly reached behind her, steadying her balance against his desk. She opened her eyes. He withdrew, standing back from his desk, observing her. There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes again - she's sure of it - before it's gone.

"I accept your resignation as my student aide. I can no longer solicit your assistance during my office and lab hours. We will avoid all personal interaction from now on. I am not capable of self restraint in your presence and you are clearly unable to accept my distance." He stepped forward again, placing a hand on her cheek, his lips brushed against her forehead with such delicacy. "Live long and prosper, Dahlia."

And without another word, he stepped around her, and left the office. Crestfallen, she stood still, listening as his footsteps echoed and faded down the hall before the sharp swish echo of the door opening and closed sounded in the distant.

* * *

**A/N: **Happy for a quick update? Let me know your thoughts. This story will be short, so the chapter that will be following the first chapter will come soon guys, just wait for it. I predict that this story won't be more than 20 chapters, probably less but let's see how it goes. It's just something small and cute, so let's go people, reviews pretty please?


	9. Friends

**NINE**

* * *

"We look up at the same stars,  
and see such different things."  
- George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

* * *

_#Friends_

He didn't acknowledge her when they passed each other in the corridors or the times she worked by his side silently in the Science lab, almost as if afraid temptation would prove too great. He was the daunting, half-Vulcan Commander and she was a mere deleterious Cadet. From too close for comfort, they'd drifted to opposite sides of the world and she didn't know how, or if he even wanted to close the distance. Everyone knew better than to question his frigidity and her obvious absence at his side. Some things didn't need to be spoken, because sometimes it was impossible to forget.

He treated her formerly with a detachment he gave others, his eyes shadowed and composed. His eyes no longer seeking for hers, her presence no longer welcomed. She finally understood the empty void she felt in her heart, the crucial pain she felt every time he turned his back on her. It took her deliberately long for her to come to terms with her obvious need she had for him.

She loved him.

**xx**

It's quiet, the air heavy but crisp. Her heels are making a sharp sound on the pavement, the only noise around her, except for her breathing, the soft cadence of her heart. In the distance, she could see the seminar abuzz with students and instructors. Their formulaic chatter, their controlled laughter, the brisk clank of their wine glasses clashing together replaced the silence that had accompanied her.

The seminar is after hours, the evening's last rays pierced through the dark, looming over the broad terrace outside the lecture hall as it overlooked the main Academy plaza. The small sunlight provided did little to warm her as she walked briskly into the crowded assembly. She accepted the wine glass handed to her by a server, draining it rapidly before taking another; ignoring the baffled look the young man was giving her.

Her eyes swept over the mass of bodies before she spotted Spock, at the centre of a group of excited people. They exclaimed over him, and he responded with a serious, politely blank expression. Jim stood beside him, his face showing boredom, his eyes seeking for an escape.

Dahlia stepped forward but abruptly held herself back as it dawned on her. He would simply treat her as he did with everyone else, letting her know she wasn't essential to him anymore. Instead, heavy hearted, she walked to where Bones, Carol and Scotty were seated. She took a deep breath, willing herself to smile despite her best efforts.

"Hey everyone, how's it going?"

Scotty was the first one to gaze at her, his eyes widening as his head swiveled around toward Carol then back to her with a sly grin. Bones, who had been leaning back in his chair overbalanced and crashed to the floor. Many curious, startled eyes rested on them.

"Dahlia, what are you wearing?" Carol asked incredulously, her accent pronounced.

Dahlia gazed down, studying her dress. It was well fitted over her chest and waist, but flared out on her hips. It barely covered her thighs and three revealing triangles were cut out on the dress. One over her chest, the other two on either side of her waist.

"A dress," she answered slowly, her eyes traveling over the other women's dress attires. Her eyes slightly widen on seeing how almost everyone's dresses were long and flowing along the floor. The dark colors contrasting harshly against the bright red dress she wore. "Oh man, I guess I didn't get the whole strict attire thing, huh?"

"Damn straight! Dahlia, what the hell!" Bones harshly said under his breath, striding toward her and grasped her arm. He dragged her to a private corner, away from prying eyes. "What's going on, darling? Jim said you've been pretty out of it lately, and that's saying something coming from him." He stepped forward, resting his hands on her shoulders in a brotherly, affectionate way. "You've never been this disruptive before, intentionally of course. Come on, you can tell me. I know I said I'm a doctor and not a damn therapist, but I'll make an exception for you. Does this have to do with that uptight, green pointy eared bast - "

Someone cleared their throat. They both looked toward the intruder as he abruptly stopped, beholding the scene before him. Bones moved away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Pardon me. I see that I have intruded on a rather intimate moment. I came only to examine the Cadet's well bei - "

"Intimate my ass," Bones interrupted him.

Furrowing her brow, she turned to look at the half-Vulcan. For a moment her gaze rested on his lips, slightly damp, glistening...and kissable...and then she met his eyes. Cold, black and obsidian.

"Cadet Rose."

"Commander Spock."

Silence dragged. Bones shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable in the situation he had involuntarily embedded himself into. Dahlia ignored him, her eyes solely resting on Spock. He looked severe, controlled and still somehow looked worn.

She tried to straighten her stance. She wanted to show him she couldn't be intimidated by him. But she faltered in her stance, stumbling back slightly and righted herself awkwardly against Bones. She began to giggle at her own absurd mistake.

"You are intoxicated." He sounded alarmed. She gazed toward him. He is watching her closely, his face impassive.

"Who? Me? No, never," Dahlia said, her words slurred together. She had not realized her escalating state as the alcohol began to coarse through her. Her head became fuzzier, her body light. "But let's not talk about me. No, let's talk about how you're going to leave tomorrow to some mission to escort some of your people to New Vulcan for I don't know how long. Why wasn't I told?"

Their eyes locked as she stood on her wavering legs, and for a moment, his eyes betrayed him further - he looked away from her for the briefest of seconds.

"It was not my intention to do so. We had agreed to interact only if it was essential to our professions. It would have been illogical to inform you of my personal affairs," Spock merely replied, composing himself and gave her a vacant look. He clasped his hands behind him dutifully. "Observing you in this inappropriate state, I find the general propensity of you toward alcohol consumption to be rather alarming. You should remove yourself and seek medical attention at once."

She stared at him, her lips slightly trembling. "Is that an order, Commander?"

"It is a strong suggestion," he returned evenly. His eyes swept over hers as if she were a mere foreign complication he found rather aggravating.

This was all too much to feel, and suddenly she was so warm that she couldn't breathe. She looked behind her to see that Bones had retreated at some point and was now standing next to Jim, having a serious whispered conversation. She rubbed her throat that suddenly felt constricted, heat spiraling throughout her body as the music and loudness began closing in on her.

She pushed past Spock who simply stepped aside to let her pass and through the crowd of bodies until she arrived at an exit, sliding out the door and down the steps until her forehead was against the cool brick of the building. It was so dark. Voices in the distance were the only company she had and she knew it was stupid for her to be out here all alone.

She could feel the pulsating rhythm of the music from the inside push into her skin through the wall, making her heart race that much faster from the heaviness of it. She didn't know what kind of panic attack this was, but she felt like she needed to run. Run until her lungs were burning, her sides aching ..until he was far away from her and the reality of this situation was even further, left behind her by miles of pavement.

She held the tears inside her, determined not to let them spill as her fists clenched against the wall, the brick cutting into her knuckles and easing some of the pain that was building inside her. She heard soft, precise footsteps in the distance and she knew it was him.

She doesn't say a thing when Spock approached her. His immediate presence somehow soothed the emotional turmoil inside of her instead of alleviating it. "Dahlia," Spock said carefully, dark eyes assessing her with thoughtful calculation. Studying her like some unknown, risky puzzle. "Are you harmed?" and when he asked, his voice sounded almost aghast.

Spock's eyebrows furrowed. His gaze is narrowed on her and his shoulders are tight with questioning. She moved forward, finding his concern for her reassuring. Careless hope flared inside her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt the slide of his smooth cheek against her own as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

Spock, not expecting the sudden movement, stumbled backwards before he regained his posture. His hands are resting against his sides as he made no move to hold her. Dahlia gave a frustrated sigh. "Spock, please," she begged. "I need you."

He stiffened. He prided himself from her touch, his fingers grasping her shoulders as he held her at arm's length away from his body. There is a definite disapproval in his dark eyes.

"You do not know what you are saying."

"Yes I do, Spock. I need you," she said, her voice breathless. She reached for him, but his grip on her was steeled, keeping her away.

"As you said," he said softly that she had to strain to hear him. The light from the lamp post fell across Spock's face, giving his eyes the same intense color she noticed earlier.

"Spock," she said, finding her courage. "You know it, I know it. We both know it. You were right. There's something going on here." She started, waving her hand between their bodies.

He looked at the space between their bodies, his eyebrows moving together infinitesimally. "I do not believe I comprehend your meaning."

Spock tilted his head, his eyes hard and weary. He is detached. She can see it in his stiff posture, his slightly narrowed eyes, hear it in his sharp sentences. He is not pleased to have her so near. Not anymore. She ruined that.

"There's always been something between us and I've been so blind to see it or much less feel it. Spock, I love - "

He gave her a look which stopped her. "Please do not patronize me. I am able to detect it when a falsehood is spoken." His eyes are hard, his face a smooth blank mask.

"Spock," she began again, taking a deep, steady breath. "Can I tell you the truth?"

Spock's eyes flared. "I expect nothing less," he said coldly.

"When I accidental initiated a mind meld and I felt your emotions, I was overwhelmed and surprised. I was confused and I didn't know what to do. I let you walk away and it was the worst mistake I've ever made. Please, Spock you have to understand. I feel the same. I've just been lost and - "

"Cadet, you are in an advance state of intoxication. It will be in your best interest if you escort yourself to your quarters to rest." His eyes remained downcast when he spoke.

She tentatively raised her hands, reaching to touch his cheek. His hands came up quickly and covered hers. "Regulations states ..." he began but stopped when she eliminated the space between their bodies.

He looked down at her. For a long breathless moment, she got lost in those eyes. She leaned up and brought her mouth just up to his. And then stopped short.

He drew a little breath, just for a moment, and then, he tilted his just a little and brought his mouth down on hers. The kiss was gentle, just their lips meeting, very lightly, and their hands entwined. After the first brief kiss he lifted his head a fraction and his eyes met hers. And then, by mutual consent, she roused up and he lowered his head again, and they kissed again, this time stepping into each other's arms. She could feel his breath against hers, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his arms encircling her.

Their noses brushed against each other, their eyes closed, basking the presence of the other. She was grasping for his touch and he was seeking for her mind with his delicate brush. When their lips separated, she took in a sharp, intake of breath as their foreheads rested against each other.

"You're so hot," she said under her breath, feeling his much warmer skin.

"I assume," Spock began, his voice low and smooth. His breath whispered against her cheek. "You mean that my core temperature is higher than your own."

"Surely you know the double meaning of the word hot in human terms, Spock," Dahlia said, stepping away and saw him raised his eyebrow. Green tinted lightly on his cheeks. She giggled at the scene before her. "What? What's wrong with giving you a compliment? You are hot. Hot. Hot."

"You have stated such a fact."

"Oh, _oh_, I didn't know you were conceited, Spock. How long did you know you were hot?" She asked teasingly, leaning toward him and batting her eyelashes.

A dust of green descended over his ears. He went slightly rigid. "I merely meant the continuity of you stating such an absurd - "

She tilted her head back, her cascade of curls trailing over her shoulder. She gave a loud sigh. "Okay, less talking and more action." She stepped toward him again but she had waited too long, his clarity had returned.

"You should depart at once." His fingers untangled from hers, releasing her from his touch. She felt empty. "Please, Dahlia, do not continue to make it inexplicable. You must restrain yourself."

When he made a move to retreat, she held onto him. Her fingers grasping the thick fabric of his shirt. "I'm intoxicated, you can't permit me to be on my own. You have to keep watch over me. What if something happens to me?" She gasped. "What if I fall down the stairs and die?"

He gave her a sharp look. "I do not find it amusing when you assert to such improbable scenarios to befall upon you."

"Wow, you're so hot when you get angry, did I already tell you that?"

His lips formed in a hardened line, his obsidian eyes flickered to the side before he took a deep breath through his nose. She was sure he was going to let out a frustrated sigh, she was waiting for it, but it did not happen. He simply took her elbow in his palm and pulled her alongside him.

Her vision was filled by him, her mind not paying attention to the destination they were heading. She willingly followed him as they boarded the lift. On their way up, she stole quick kisses from him. He did not object.

The doors swished open, granting them access to the level her dorm was located. This time, she pulled him alongside her. His grasp on her faltered but she tightened hers more security.

She turned sharply toward him, pushing him against the wall and pressed herself against him. Her lips nuzzled his neck, kissing his heated skin. She heard a deep, startled intake of breath followed by a tortured groan.

"Dahlia, please do not do that."

She leaned up, her cool fingers casting his chin downward so she could place one chaste, slow kiss on his lips. "Join me, Spock. I want you to spend the night with me."

Her teeth grazed her lips as her fingers traced the hard lines of his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his lips. He didn't move. His eyes were focused on her. After a few seconds, his hands held hers and stepped away from her touch.

"I cannot. I find myself needing time to process my thoughts and perplexing emotions. I do not enter into relationships lightly, Dahlia. The Vulcan in me is seeking a _katelau_ where I must complete the _kal'i'farr_ with. A ceremony that is equivalent to a marriage in human terms. It is something I cannot ask of you. You are still young, impulsive, and at times extricates my patience. You are not ready for such a commitment. Friends will be a much viable way for us to remain."

"What if we date or - " she began but he lifted his hand to stop her.

"I apologize, Dahlia. That is all I am able to offer you."

Her eyes locked with his and her vision became blurry, her lips trembling. She just wanted him, but he wanted so much more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her head nodding in understanding. His hands slid from her waist all the way around her back. He held her tightly, almost desperately for a few seconds before letting her go.

"I must take my leave. As you have discovered, I have a prior engagement that will call me away for an undetermined length of time."

She nodded slowly, swallowing the turmoil that was building inside her. "So, friends?"

"Friends."

She had never been good at remaining as friends. But she will.

For him.

Because that's what he needs.

* * *

**A/N**: So, more or no? Can I hear your thoughts? Review, please, with a cherry on top.


	10. Petals

**TEN**

* * *

"If the full moon loves you,  
why worry about the stars?"  
- Tunisian Proverb

* * *

_#Petals_

**DAHLIA**

She ran.

She ran as quickly as she could through the crowds of pedestrians walking in the opposite direction. There were loud protests but she paid no heed to them, her mind concentrating on arriving on time. When the station came into view, she slowed to a fast walk. She straightened her shirt and smoothed her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear and smiled at a person passing by.

The station was crowded. She craned her neck, her eyes searching solely for one person. She unconsciously clapped her hands when she spotted him, taking a deep breath to call out to him. But she stopped when her eyes perceived the scene before her with clarity.

Spock was on the platform at the transport station, in uniform, holding his suitcase. His back to her. Nyota stood by him, her head tilted backwards, her dark hair trailing behind her. Spock nodded and Nyota smiled. The brilliance of her smile and the sincerity behind it had Dahlia swallowed the turmoil that began to expand within her.

Even from this distance, Dahlia could identify the apparent way they were both completely comfortable with the other's presence. But it was understandable. Nyota had been a part of Spock's life for years. They had been together through hardships and a disastrous life that had made them go through fateful tragedies together. They had history together. They always will.

Dahlia stayed frozen, her eyes resting on the couple. A silent tear slid down her cheek and she made no move to wipe it away. It would fall or dry out. That's just the way it is. When the robotic voice boomed around them, signaling it was time to board, Nyota stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Spock's neck.

She saw the way he stiffened and hesitated before he returned the gesture. They held each other close. Nyota opened her eyes and found hers. They held each other's gazes.

Dahlia glared at Nyota. She felt, for some indefinable reason, that the woman had taken something from her, something that she had wanted all along…

Something.

Something.

_Him…_

And she knew it, because she smiled.

**xx**

**NYOTA**

She was too tired to sleep.

Rain pattered against the window, its gentle rhythm keeping sleep at bay. Nyota could see raindrops trickle down through the gap in the curtain where she hadn't quite closed it properly, light fracturing as it shone through from the street light outside.

She was warm; the comforter swaddled around her, wrapped around her shoulders. She moved her head, resting more profoundly on her pillow and willing herself to close her eyes.

The rain began to hit the window pane harder, and she let a sigh loose into the room. She slipped out from between the sheets and picked up her robe from the floor, pulling it on. She'd left the heat on overnight, just on low, but it was still cool.

Her steps were quiet as she made her way to her window. She felt a cool breeze move around her from the opening and she reached forward, ready to close it and crawl back into bed. But she froze when her eyes caught the incredulous person lying unmoving on the muddy ground outside. The relentless rain poured over the person's unsheltered form and when lightning fractured again, the immense glow revealed the person's features.

Dahlia.

Nyota, petrified, quickly went out the door, down the stairs and opened the main building's door as she ran outside. The cold, frigid rain poured over her uncaring in her unprotected state. She was breathing hard as her eyes searched for Dahlia. When lightning lit the sky again, her eyes found her on the ground.

Her feet padded noisily against the earth. Her feet numb, not feeling the sharp, freezing ground beneath her as she ran toward Dahlia. When Nyota reached her she poised her two fingers on the side of her neck to feel for a pulse. It was slow, faint and she was dangerously cold. Nyota smoothed her hands over Dahlia's chest, ready to begin compressions when a startled scream stopped her.

Surprised, Nyota stumbled back. Her hands resting on the ground as she tried to balance herself. Dahlia's eyes were open wide, staring at her. "Dammit, Uhura! You can't just do that! I was this close in pissing myself!"

Nyota took a moment to process Dahlia's words before she rolled her eyes and gave out a relieved, frustrated laugh. "Dahlia! What on earth are you doing out here lying on the floor during a storm? I thought you were dead!"

"What are you talking about? I'm fine! I just like being out during a storm. By the way, you were getting pretty handsy there with my boobs," Dahlia said, running her hand through her tangled, wet hair. Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightening flashed, and illuminated her features.

"I was trying to save your life!"

"By touching my boobs."

Nyota closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and stood up from her position. At times, she wondered what Spock ever saw in Dahlia. He was calm, controlled and radiated authority while Dahlia was the embodiment opposition of him. It completely rendered her appalled. It speculated her how different Spock was to Dahlia, but yet he saw something within her, something that had faltered his restraint.

"Fine, stay out here for all I care," Nyota huffed, holding a levelled gaze with her before turning around and walking away. After a few seconds, she heard shuffling, footsteps padding noisily against the ground before she saw a flash of blonde hair in the corner of her eye.

Both woman stayed silent as Nyota led the way back to her quarters. To say the situation was awkward was a complete understatement. She wasn't sure what she was doing, allowing the young woman who had taken the only essential thing in her life away from her to accompany her back to her apartment. Things just didn't make sense anymore. Not after he left her.

Once permitting her entrance, both of them stayed silent for a moment. Nyota leaned against the wall, her eyes trained on the young cadet. It would be inane to deny the fact that she was stunning. Even in her disheveled state, with her hair tangled and wet, her skin blotchy and her lips turning a slight purpled color, she still managed to look beautiful. But Nyota knew that it was far more than her appealing features that captured her Spock's attention. She had to discover what was so differential about the young cadet. What did she have that she didn't?

"Have you spoken to Spock?" Dahlia asked, her eyes darting to the ground. Nyota's eyes slightly widen in contemplation, wondering where the playful, mischievous young woman she had witnessed earlier had gone. "Is he ...is he in good health?"

"Yes, I believe so," Nyota answered, her voice soft, distant. "I have not spoken to him since his departure."

"Oh, I thought ..." Dahlia trailed off. She absently smoothed her hands over her arms, trying to warm herself. Wordlessly, Nyota handed her a towel. "I saw you with him before he boarded the craft. I thought you two reconciled."

Pause. "No. No, we did not." Nyota crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes swept over her living area. They lingered on the plant that rested by the window. Dahlia followed the direction of her gaze and stepped forward.

Nyota silently watched the young cadet's fingers graze delicately over the purple petals, the plant fluttering downwards. It had drooped, as if mourning the lost of the sun's rays and the alien planet that inhabitant it.

"The rikka flower. It's very beautiful. It's native to Taresia and has a soothing fragrance. The Taresians apply essence of rikka flowers to the forehead before resting. Was it a gift?" Dahlia asked, her voice unusually morbid, soundless. A light flashed through her window, lighting her quarters in brilliance, before it faded back to the dreary darkness.

"Yes, it was from ..." it was her turn to trailed off, not knowing how to proceed. But the way Dahlia tilted her head to the side, her hair trailing over her shoulder, she didn't need to continue.

"They are primarily used the Taresian traditional way but they are a variety ways to use the plant. You can mix the petals in your herbal tea to use it as a sleeping device. I had done a project using the plant in differential scenarios in how one can determine - " Nyota slowly tuned her out, her eyes gazing toward the window.

Lightening flashed again, then again, and again, illuminating Dahlia's silhouette. It finally ceased before rain began to pour with urgency, pounding against her window pane. Nyota shifted her weight, her eyes trailing over the young cadet as she continued to talk animatedly of her discovery of the complexity of the plant. In rare moments, such as this one, she saw something in Dahlia. She knew the young woman was exemplary in the science department, being a beneficial aide to Spock. Even though at times, many people questioned her profession in Starfleet and her new assigned position on the USS Enterprise at such a young age, Nyota knew that she was an admirable student.

When her eyes focused on the plant again, Nyota was granted the bittersweet memory of Spock returning from one of his off planet missions and gifting her with a silent offering of his affections. It had been before they he had met Dahlia, before the destruction of her heart, the downfall of her future with Spock. The memory always surfaced when she glimpsed at the flower. Why was she still in possession of it?

Suddenly, Nyota caught Dahlia's eyes for a moment. Her gaze was familiar and Nyota recognized the emotion hidden in her eyes, the same way she recalled the young cadet had seen her with Spock at the station before his departure.

"When you saw us at the station, I wanted to reconciled, despite the pain he had caused me," Nyota stated carelessly. Her interruption rendered Dahlia speechless. A tense silence befell.

Even though the grief he had bestowed upon her, with his heedless confession, she would have reunited with him in a heartbeat. But it wasn't that simple. It just wasn't for her. He wasn't for her.

"He refused."

"Why?" Dahlia asked. If it had not been for the slight tilt of her head, the small lighting provided by her newsvid monitor, Nyota would not have witnessed the tear that fell silently down her cheek.

"Because I'm not you."

Dahlia's eyes widened. Shocked and surprised were evident in her features before they morphed into one of empathy and confusion. "I was certain that you and him ...I mean he wanted something serious and I ..I'm not sure if I'm ready for something like that. I've been used to being on my own for so long, I just don't know how to _be_ with someone. When I saw both of you, the way you were both so comfortable and content with the other I..." Her eyes drifted to the flower again.

"You were sad." It wasn't a question. Dahlia nodded mutely. Nyota tilted her head, her eyes slightly narrowing. She remembered the times she had glimpsed the young cadet in the corridors, the mess hall and at the bar. Dahlia's laughter and mischievous eyes mocked Nyota as they echoed in her mind. "You didn't look sad."

"Makeup helps."

There was a slight tug at the tip of her lips but Nyota hardened her mouth in a firm line before shaking her head, rolling her eyes. She stepped forward, her hands clasped loosely on her shoulders in a self embrace.

"I love Spock. I will always love him and ... I want him to be happy. We respected each other. Admired each other's talents. We became friends and for me, respect and admiration grew more sincere but ...it just wasn't meant to be. Even after everything, I cannot regret him. I love him and I need to know ...I need to know that your love for him is true. I have seen the way he looks at you, when he thinks your not looking," Nyota swallowed the tears that threaten to overcome her. She took a deep breath. "When you are around Dahlia, he looks at little else."

Dahlia stepped forward, her arms outstretched in a silent offer of comfort but Nyota instantly stumbled back. Dahlia, understanding, kept her distance. "I never meant to hurt you Uhura. It had never been my intention to ruin ..." she lifted her shoulders before releasing them in resignation. "I love him. I do. And it took me some time to figure that out. I accept him for who he is. He will never be neither fully Vulcan or Human. He will always be someone of two worlds and that's what makes him special, unique. It makes him Spock. I can't and will never ask him to change. He needs his emotions as much as he needs his logic. He needs both."

Nyota is stricken by her words, by the deep significance behind them. Even though her statement was truthful, she realized the harsh reality of her situation. She had persisted Spock to be someone he couldn't completely be. She had asked for too much. In her ignorant state, she had blindly tried to alter him to act more human instead of relishing his distinctiveness.

"He accepts me for who I am, too. I'm just not a pretty face to him. It's like he sees me, the real me. He sees so much more. I know we are different, believe me I know. I don't know how to explain it but...it's not our purpose to become each other. It is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other for what we are, each other's opposite and complement."

Nyota's gaze is solely on the flower. There is another pause.

"I know I have no right to ask or assume, but do you know when he'll return?"

She doesn't answer immediately. She can feel Dahlia's impatience, but the young woman remained silent despite the rapid shift of her body. "I don't know the specific day, but I believe he'll return some time this week." She took a deep breath. Dropping her hand from her arm, she touched the edge of the pot, letting her bare fingers dance along the rough edge. "When an opportunity arises, do not waste it Dahlia. You let him go once, don't make the same mistake again."

Hesitantly, Dahlia nodded before turning around and walking away. Nyota dazed out for a moment, wandering aimlessly in thought before her gaze rested on Dahlia again.

"Before you go, I just need you to do something for me." Dahlia paused, looking over her shoulder toward Nyota. This time she let her tears fall freely down her face.

"Make him happy."

There is nothing else to be said. Dahlia exited without another word, leaving Nyota to contemplate with her thoughts alone. Her fingers trailed over the petals silently, plucking each one slowly. She gazed at them as they wavered downward on the table. She would put good use to them as Dahlia had told her. Use them to soothe her to sleep. She needed to let go and move on.

As the last petal floated downward ever so slowly, she curled her fingers, feeling cold against her skin.

* * *

"Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go, but rather learning to start over."  
-Nicole Sobon


End file.
